


(Not) Just A One Night Stand (the Regency Remix)

by Noxnoctisanima



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M, Regency, Regency Romance, Remix, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxnoctisanima/pseuds/Noxnoctisanima
Summary: Mister Braydon Coburn is facing a dilemma, his mother desires a daughter in law while he wishes for a husband. He has come to London to fulfil his mother's wishes at the expense of his own. Can the young debutant Slater Koekkoek change his mind?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verbaeghe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/gifts).
  * Inspired by [(Not) Just A One Night Stand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621614) by [verbaeghe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe). 



Braydon sighed as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the family’s London home. He so tired of the Ton and the Season but as he had reached his thirtieth year his mother was growing increasingly desperate that he secure a wife and a child of his own blood. He had not the heart to tell her that his interests did not lie with women and she may need to content herself with his attainment of merely a spouse and the adoption of a suitable child.

Much of his reasoning for attending the Season rather than spending it comfortably riding and hunting in the country was his mother’s insistence on introducing him to any eligible women with whom she was acquainted, an increasingly unattractive assemblage. He would brave the Season and the grasping mothers to spare himself his own for a few short months.

He alighted from the carriage and nodded in response as the footman came forward to welcome him.

“I will need the carriage readied again momentarily, I will dine at the club tonight.”

“Yes sir, should I also have a bath prepared?”

“Yes, and a dinner jacket laid out, thank you Nathan.”

 

The club was quiet that evening, many gentlemen having yet to return from their country homes. Braydon perused the room for a dining companion but he could see no one of close enough acquaintance to impose upon. He was readying himself to take a lonely seat when a young man caught his eye and motioned to an open seat at his table.

“I cannot in good conscience let another gentleman dine alone when I may provide him companionship.”

He was a dapper young man, dressed fashionably in cravat and dinner jacket, his blond hair neatly styled.

“I thank you.” He held out his hand as the man stood to welcome him to the table. “Braydon Colburn.” For a moment Braydon thought he spied a flash of recognition in the man’s face before it disappeared again beneath a polite visage.

“And I am Slater.”

He offered no family name and Braydon paused in his motions to consider this, his prospective companion could not be here without sponsorship and must therefore be trustworthy. He sat down nevertheless.

He observed the man as the wine was poured and orders were taken for the first course. He was a strong-jawed man of obviously Scandinavian blood and undeniably beautiful.

“I have not seen you at the club before, are you in London on business?” He asked as he shook the napkin onto his lap.

“A little, and a little for pleasure.” He caught Braydon’s eye with intent.

Braydon had always carefully insulated his private leanings from the knowledge of Society and was disinclined to change that now, but he could not deny the appeal of such blatant interest.

“And you?”

“I throw myself upon the mercy of the Marriage Mart, if indeed it has any.” He smiled wryly.

“And what fair creature do you seek to woo?” The question was filled with flirtatious humour and Braydon forgot himself in the heady feeling.

He met Slater’s eyes over his wine glass as he took a long draw.

“A fair creature that is to my taste.”

Dinner continued much apace. Braydon left feeling rich with wine and food and attention. He retired to bed in a buoyant mood and slept deeply.

 

Braydon awoke with a feeling of shame for his woeful control of his own desires the last evening. He had come to London to woo a wife, not a husband and to act otherwise was to risk stories of his indiscretions reaching his mother.

He remonstrated himself as he completed his morning ablutions and dressed for Major Cooper’s luncheon, an event which had recently become for many the necessary first engagement of the Season.

The crowd was still thin as he arrived but as luck would have it Major Cooper was a friend and exclaimed happily upon his arrival.

“Braydon! It has been too long since we have last met. Why must you confine yourself to the country when the real sport is here?” He clasped Braydon’s hand firmly and smiled heartily at him.

“I am a poor suitor Major, as my late bachelorhood attests, and a far superior horseman. But I mean to take a wife this year which should provide you with some fine sport.” The Major’s face broke into an even more delighted grin.

“Indeed it will! Though it may now preclude you for an assistance I intended to ask of you.”

“I am always at your disposal, you can only but ask.” Braydon would welcome a diversion in the weeks to come.

“A young man of my acquaintance has been sent by his father, a dear friend of mine, for me to sponsor into society. He is the youngest child of the Koekkoek family and I would be indebted to you if you would provide support for him as he travels the perils of the Mart.”

“He seeks a husband?” Braydon asked, remembering his foolishness only last evening and fearing his control in such a situation.

“Indeed, which as you intend a wife would make you a most appropriate companion.”

Braydon had led himself into this position and was now unable to extract himself. The only option which remained to him was a graceful submission.

“I would be honoured to assist you in such a manner.”

“Excellent!” The Major said, clasping his hands together in pleasure. “I shall introduce you to the lad momentarily, as I believe that is his carriage I now spy arriving.”

Braydon followed his host’s gesture towards a window outside of which a handsome pair of bays were switching their tails.

There was a long moment before the footman opened the door and announced. “Sir, young Mister Koekkoek has arrived.” A young man in a fashionable suit stepped past him and Braydon froze inside in mortification.

Slater met his eyes with a smile and Braydon was struck with the clear knowledge that Slater was very aware of who he, Braydon, was.

“Slater.” The Major introduced, blessedly ignorant of the awkwardness. “This is Mister Braydon Coburn, he has kindly offered to escort you and act as companion this Season.”

Slater stepped forward and offered his hand. “I thank you for your kindness Mister Coburn, I must admit that London is somewhat different from our country home.”

“You are most welcome,” Braydon answered, feeling in a daze.

The Major clapped his hands together delightedly. “Wonderful, I shall leave you to become acquainted while I see the other guests who I have been so sorely neglecting.” He smiled and strode off to a set of older women and their attendant children.

Slater waited only until he was out of hearing. “Braydon, I must apologise most sincerely for my deception last evening. I am afraid I was too taken by you to wish to interrupt our possible conversation.”

Braydon shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands twisting on the hems of his jacket. He was discomforted by the familiarity and the forwardness of Slater’s address but had only his own impropriety to blame.

“I was surprised to be introduced to yourself as my escort, while it is no scandal for two such as ourselves to share time, it is somewhat improper for two who seek husbands to be so openly paired.”

“I seek a wife,” Braydon answered and frowned at his own rudeness. “Our last conversation was mistaken.”

Slater looked saddened and perplexed by his assertion.

“I believe you said you were to woo a fair creature of your taste.” He replied shortly.

“And this creature is to be a wife. You were mistaken.” Braydon matched his tone.

“I do not believe I was, but the Major would be most saddened to see us at odds so early in our acquaintance and I will speak of other matters.” He turned from Braydon and caught the eye of a servant who brought him a drink. He sipped his drink as he turned back and then most firmly changed the subject. “So tell me. Which parks are most congenial for strolling, and which for riding?”

 

The Stamkos ball was a mainstay of the Season and though Lord Steven had yet to take a lady wife his mother proved a formidable hostess.

The Stamkos ballroom was a marvel of architecture, through Braydon paid it much less attention than its magnificence deserved, his mind instead on the whispers of the mothers discussing his fortunes and lands. This is what most distressed him in his chosen course, he was by any measure a catch and the force with which those of lesser fortunes would pursue him was uncomfortable.

He circulated the room, nodding politely to acquaintances and endeavouring not to stay long enough stationary to be solicited for a dance. He had come to a decision while waiting for the mortification of the last evening to wane and sleep to come. He would choose an older debutant, there were always a number who were spurned each year for their looks or manners or disinclination towards matrimony, it was this last who he would woo. A woman who would appreciate a husband who wanted an heir but little else. A woman who would require little wooing so he could retire home before he was tempted into another mistake.

He spied such a lady and went forward to inscribe himself on her dance card, for a country dance of which he was fond some minutes hence. As he departed from her he steeled himself for the other duty which he must discharge that evening and made for the corner in which The Major and Slater had positioned themselves to watch the crowd.

“Good evening Major, Mister Koekkoek.” He inclined his head in greeting and received the same in response, though Slater watched him with disappointment in his gaze.

“Good evening Braydon, it is a novelty to see you out filling your dance card. May I suggest some ladies you might find agreeable?”

“You may suggest of course Major, though I may find your choices not to my tastes,” he replied, carefully avoiding the frown Slater now graced him with. The Major smiled broadly.

“You know I do like a challenge, I shall observe you then, to discover your tastes and tailor my suggestions to them.” He looked past Braydon, obviously spying another conversational partner. “But, now I spy Lord Yzerman and I much desire to speak with him. Slater, I shall leave you in the change of Mister Coburn and return presently.” He strode off across the room, leaving Braydon alone with a young man who seemed very much inclined to speak his mind.

“So you really have chosen this path. To hide your true desires and marry a woman.” Braydon looked carefully around and then breathed, relieved to spy no one standing close enough by to overhear. Slater was lucky to have a sponsor such as Major Cooper if he always spokes so unwisely in company.

“My choices, such as they are, are my own and not for you to speak on.” He answered, somewhat shortly.

“They became mine to speak on when you made me the subject of them.” Slater rejoined and then met Braydon’s eyes firmly. “I was most taken with you.”

Braydon flushed at the impropriety of such a bald statement.

“As I do not seek a husband I would suggest you turn your eye to more favourable prospects.”

Slater meant to continue the conversation but the floor cleared from the previous dance and the country dance to which Braydon was promised began to form.

“I am most sorry Slater but I must take to the floor. You should look to do the same yourself.” He turned on his heel and gratefully left the uncomfortable conversation.

 

The next morning a message was conveyed which requested for Braydon to accompany Slater for an equestrian excursion in one of the better-appointed parks. He would have demurred had the letter not been from the Major and so instead found himself waiting at the entrance of the park at eleven, well seated on his favourite mount.

“Mister Coburn.” Slater greeted on arrival.

“Mister Koekkoek,” was offered in return. “it is a wonderful day for a ride.” He was correct in that observation, it was a lovely sunny day with not a cloud to be seen.

“It is indeed, shall we? There is a folly at the western edge which I think you will much enjoy.”

“Lead on then.”

They travelled much of the way in near silence, speaking only to point out a particularly lovely sight or to greet others they met as they rode. For all the day was bright and sunny Braydon felt a foreboding as they continued on their way.

“If you are so certain you will take a wife, what am I to take of our dinner conversation? Do you enjoy leading young men on for your own amusement?”

The abruptness and bluntness of the question froze Braydon for a long moment. To discuss a topic such as this in public, never mind that the nearest stroller was a way off, was most unusual.

“I meant no harm.” His response was unsatisfactory but to say more was to air matters which were solely his own.

Slater frowned at him in a way which was most unfortunately attractive.

“But you did cause it.” He responded. “I measured all the men who filled my card last evening against you and all were found wanting. I had fixed my gaze and your deception does me injury.”

Braydon flushed in discomfort at the airing of such things.

“You are young, you shall meet a more suitable match in time.”

“I shall not.” Was Slater’s firm response and he turned his eyes deliberately to his horse’s withers and said no more.

They completed the ride in silence.

 

Braydon returned home, tired beyond expectation, more from the conversation than the rigours of the ride.

Nathan awaited him in the front parlour.

“Sir, your parents sent a letter. I have laid it out in the study with your stationary.” He nodded a short bow and withdrew.

His mother only wrote of one thing and as he sank into his chair to read he could predict its contents.

_My Dearest Braydon,_   
_I trust you are well and enjoying your time in London. I hope your quest is preceding as you wish. Though you needn't only examine in London. There is a wonderful young lady here of your acquaintance, Allison, who is most eager to meet with you…._

The letter continued but Braydon had been correct in his assumptions. His mother wanted him wed, but most she wanted him wed to a Devon girl, one she had met and knew. This, he reminded himself, was the reason for his presence in the Mart this Season. It was best to court a woman from outside his mother’s acquaintance less she recognise the falseness of his ardour.

His return letter was pleasant but devoid of true content, pledging only to keep well and return by June at the latest.

He lay aside his response to dry and retrieved his father’s missive.

After the usual pleasantries he began:

_Do ensure you do not lose yourself in your search for a bride, your mother can wait more years and you have cousins aplenty. A good match which will see you happy is better than one which will please your dear mother._

His father had made such intimations before and Braydon was made most uncomfortable by the suggestion that he knew of and disapproved of his choice.

He dashed off what he hoped was an appropriately filial response and sent both letters off to be posted before he rewrote them with something he would regret.

He spent the afternoon undertaking social calls on those he had missed while riding with Slater. These included visits to the homes of two young ladies which whom he had danced. He left feeling if not pleased, then at least at ease with his choices. Neither woman was prone to inane chatter or of some illusion as to his interest.

His arrival home was greeted with a new collection of calling cards to be returned on the morrow, The necessity of social calls was one of his least favourite things about being in London. One was an old friend of his father’s, a courtesy duty which could be discharged with a polite morning visit, another the mother of a young woman he had danced with, to be quickly and carefully dispensed with, she had after all been a giggler. The last was an invitation from the Major to join himself, his charge and some others of an afternoon’s diversions followed by a picnic. Braydon dashed off replies to the three and retired to bed meaning to get an early start and make the park by lunch.

 

The picnic was not as he expected. He was, he must confess, expecting to spend the afternoon fending off Slater’s more amorous intentions. Something which if he was honest he could not but enjoy.

But Slater did not approach him with such intent, indeed he did not approach him at all. He had walked past Braydon most deliberately and instead taken a seat beside Lord Stralman, who he must admit would make a most fetching match for Slater. He could not mistake the ache he felt as anything other than jealousy, but this was for the best, for both Slater and himself.

He thought to let the matter lie but the Major noticed the decidedly frosty air between them and the next day called them into his parlour.

“I have no knowledge of what has caused this rift between you but I must insist you rectify it.” He was stern and it was all Braydon could do not to shift like a schoolboy. “I will not have something such as this destroy such a beneficial companionship.” Then, as if to dismiss Braydon’s feeling of school boy repentance he dismissed them without a further word.

“We are best to do as he says,” Slater commented after a long moment of silence. “He is not one to forget.” He led the way to a small study and closed the door.

“If we are to come to any positive conclusion, I must know.” Slater turned to him as the door closed. “Why do you look at me as though you covet me while spurning any act of reciprocation? Am I too forward in manner, too young?” He looked pained by this and Braydon cursed his soft heart as he was forced by his own conscience to relieve Slater’s fears.

“You do not mistake my gaze but I must marry a woman.” He paused, already seeing the argumentative veil draw across Slater’s face. “My mother has spoken of nothing else since I was a young boy. My wife and my children, children of my blood. I cannot disappoint her.”

Slater’s face moved with startling swiftness from argumentative to pitying, his eyes meeting Braydon’s full of sadness.

“You will forgo your own happiness for that of your mother?”

“Always.” Was his firm answer, one he felt much more sure of on the surface.

“We could not make...other arrangements?” Was Slater’s next response and it caught Braydon much by surprise and filled him with shame.

“I will not allow you to lessen yourself to mistress. You are young, you do not yet know all that the world has for you and I will not see you tainted by such a dishonourable arrangement.”

He chose then to leave and walked outside and into his carriage before he could turn around and accept what the boy so clearly wanted to, and just as clearly should not, give to him.

 

“I must admit I did not foresee such a discomfort forming between Slater and yourself, you seemed such well-matched companions.” The Major commented somewhat scandalously as he sipped his tea.

“A mere disagreement I assure you Major,” Braydon replied, suddenly fearful for Slater’s good reputation with his sponsor.

“No matter, he was writing poetry to an unknown paramour this morning, the solitude seems to have done him well in his focus.” Braydon had no right to jealousy, had indeed removed himself quite firmly from consideration but with their disagreement only days behind him he could not but feel saddened at Slater’s abrupt return to the Mart.

It truly was for the best though, Slater’s sinfully tempting offer would be doubly hard to refuse were it to be offered again. Braydon also needed to focus himself back of the wooing of a wife, a duty which he had been most sorely neglecting.

 

Braydon’s next conversation with Slater was some days later, a stilted, careful exchange of phrases before Slater was whisked off by the next man on his dance card and Braydon forced himself to find the next occupant of his own.

It was well that he had long studied the social graces, without that long familiarity he would have been hard pressed to dance, maintain conversation with his partner and worry over Slater in the same moment.

Even as he whirled the pretty yet vapid girl in his arms his mind was fixed firmly on how relieving it was to see Slater so healthy and well. He caught a glimpse of him through the dancers and knew that he should be overjoyed to see him taking so well to another but all he felt was the bitterest jealousy.

The dance finished and he made his bow, releasing the poor girl back to her chaperone.

He would be pleased for Slater, despite what his baser needs may wish for him, for there was no other path open to him.

He did not wish to lose Slater’s companionship entirely and resolved to seek him out for a ride or game of cards when a little more of the sting of jealousy had faded.

 

Slater seemed quite amenable to renewing their acquaintance as it had been proposed, as company during the Season.

It was somewhat uncomfortable at first, with the knowledge of their shared desire between them but in time their conversation began to lighten again and once more take on the friendliness which had characterised it.

Slater was being squired about by several fine gentlemen and Braydon had narrowed his choices to two young women who he was not opposed to and who might accept his suit. Braydon could not truthfully call himself happy but he was pleased that things were progressing as they should.

The Season was going much to plan.

 

His father’s letter arrived the next week. He would be travelling to London to undertake some business and would stay for several days. He had sent word of his arrival ahead and a small flurry of invitations awaited him as he stepped through the doorway.

“Braydon, you look well son.” He greeted happily as he crossed the threshold.

“As do you father, especially after a long day in the carriage. Would you like for me to arrange a light supper for you?”

His father waved him off as the servants ordered the baggage into the house.

“No thank you, I stopped earlier for a meal as I was unsure as to my arrival. I would however much enjoy a glass of brandy to warm myself after so long out of doors.”

Braydon thought that a wonderful idea and they retired to the lounge with their brandy and his father’s correspondence.

“You have many invitations for amusements while you are resident in the city.”

His father was reclining in his chair with his eyes tilted to the ceiling, brandy glass cupped carefully.

“Set aside those for luncheons or other daytime pursuits as my business will keep me most occupied during those times. What have we in the evenings?”

“Several dinners and a ball.”

“Let me see the dinner invitations.” He reached for them and quickly examined them. “Wonderful, I needn't send my apologies to any, and tomorrow we shall dine with your good friend Major Cooper.”

Braydon felt a most sudden crest of fear. He feared what his father would glean if he spent an evening at table with Braydon himself and Slater.

 

It was a most congenial meal, they were the only guests and the Major as host kept the conversation lively and interesting enough that Braydon was able to entirely forget his worries.

Braydon returned home in the carriage feeling replete and pleased.

They retired again to the lounge with glasses of brandy and drank quietly in front of the fire before his father spoke.

“I do wish you had told me of your fondness for Master Koekkoek, I should have liked to be more prepared to meet a future son.”

Every part of Braydon froze, he was unable to speak, unable to move his hand upon his glass. He sat like that for long moments until his father moved forward and placed his hand on Braydon’s shoulder.

“I am sorry to startle you, I know you believed your true tastes hidden but any who saw you this evening in his presence would know where your heart truly lies.”

“I apologise for such unseemly actions,” Braydon replied, his eyes downcast.

“There was nothing unseemly in your actions Braydon, I merely know my son. Master Koekkoek is a fine match, he will make you a wonderful husband.”

“I cannot, mother so wants a daughter and grandchildren of her own blood. I told Slater as much weeks ago.”

“Then you chose poorly. You cannot live for your mother. She will be happy enough with grandchildren, no matter their origin. You must speak again to Master Koekkoek and inform him of your changed circumstance.” His father replied, most firmly. Braydon received his words and could barely believe them, so anathema to his former thoughts they were.

“I fear,” he began slowly. “That I have ruined my prospects with Slater.”

“They are not ruined.” His father replied with amusement. “You spent the evening equally enamoured each with the other.”

“I trust your words but I can hardly believe them. So long have I kept to another course.”

“You must speak with him, I will not accept a marriage with a woman. It is not in the interest of our family and not in your own.” He concluded sternly and stood. “I will turn in for the evening, tomorrow I have business to attend to and you will make plans to speak to Master Koekkoek.”

He stood and proceeded up the stairway to his bedchamber leaving Braydon to ruminate on the last of his brandy and the last of his fruitless, wrongheaded actions.

 

It was many days before Braydon could plan a quiet moment with Slater. They scheduled a ride three days hence, though there was a ball in the interim which both would attend, Braydon did not think it the correct juncture for such a conversation.

With no need now to dance with the women of the ball Braydon’s dance card was gratefully empty and instead he passed the time watching Slater dance. He was graceful and refined and avoided the waltzes which reassured Braydon that the hopes his father had stoked in him were not in vain. He also varied his dance partners, never favouring one man.

Later in the evening, in one of the last quadrilles, Braydon watched Slater return to the floor with Captain Neil. Braydon thought little of Captain Neil, he had tarnished many reputations before hiding behind his father’s connections and Braydon frowned to see Slater in his company.

The dance started with Neil’s hand scandalously low on Slater’s hip. Braydon spied Slater’s face as he turned, he looked most discomforted. As they parted and then rejoined the hand now rested almost on Slater’s behind and Braydon could hear whispers beginning beside him.

As Braydon stood the last set of the quadrille began. Only this saved him the scene he was willing to endure to extract Slater from Neil’s hold. As it was he reached Slater just as he was swiftly moving to remove Neil’s hands from his person. Neil was resisting him with a foul grin and Braydon grasped his arm tightly, yet discretely.

“You will release him now lest I make a scene even your father will not be able to conceal.” He hissed as he leant closely into Neil.

Neil took back his hands, feigning innocence and Braydon led Slater to a quiet corner to recover.

“Shall I fetch you a drink?”

“No, that is unnecessary,” Slater replied though he was obviously shaken. “You made a statement on the floor, it will not go unnoticed. If you wish to defend your chosen reputation you would be wise to leave me and attend to one of your better prospects.”

Braydon grasped Slater’s hands between his two own.

“They may come to any conclusions they wish, I am no longer bound by a foolish promise I made without thought of the consequences.”

“Your father released you from your self-imposed labours,” Slater observed dryly though he left his hands in Braydon’s grasp.

“He did, for he saw how I looked at you across the dining table and how you looked at me in return and could not bare to see me make a choice which would see me so unhappy.”

“Your words are fine Braydon but it was mere weeks ago that you were willing to cast me aside with barely a thought,” Slater responded and Braydon could see the craning necks of the society mothers watching as they spoke.

“It is unforgivable, and yet now I entreat you to allow me a second chance to prove to you that I am a good man, worthy of your love.” Slater’s face softened.

“It would be cruel to deny that which would make us both happy.” He replied and Braydon grinned at him, delirious and pulled him closer.

“I will never again give you cause to doubt me.”

“I know. For if you do I will give you no third chance.” Slater’s smile was radiant and Brayden squeezed his hands again before kissing the back of one in clear view of the society mothers.

“You have made a statement,” Slater commented.

“I have.” Was the reply. “Let us leave, we have no more need of debutantes or matchmaking mothers.” He offered Slater his arm, which was taken with all due solemnity.

“We do not indeed.”


End file.
